From trees I come in milky white, then shaped by heat to gain my might. I stretch and bend but still endure, made strong and firm through fire’s cure.

A crimson heart, seeded with stars, summer's sweet whisper in a field of green, crowned yet humble, indulging the senses with each bite.

The dawn of new, fresh as the breeze. Cast bubbles to blue, they burst on new leaves. Pogo WAS a no go, now it pops like a seed. The year’s flowers are powered, from the showers received.

I am not snow, but I am frozen. I am not glass, but I can be clear. I melt into water. What am I?

Invest your time, effort, and money into one of these in the hopes that some tomatoes will grow in a few months time instead of buying them from the store.